


You and I

by Amnesia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bottom Harry, Depression, Friendship, Gay, Harry Has An Eating Disorder, Hate, Love, M/M, Mental Disorder, Punk Louis, Smut, Top Louis, Trust Issues, harry likes flowers, kinda cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amnesia/pseuds/Amnesia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry likes flowers in his hair and fancies louis. louis hates flowers and thinks harry is annoying. zayn is just in love with liam while niall really has no one to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry skimmed his long fingers over the railing, a soft sigh leaving his parted lips. His always messy and curly hair was held back with a bandana and he was wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt. His arms were covered in tattoos, there was barely an inch of skin that was not inked, but he liked it. The tattoos covered his scars and they told his story, so he was quite content with it. Below him the river was flowing by carelessly, the water dark and deep. He'd die if he jumped, he thought. It would be a nice way to go, he found himself thinking of suicide for the umpteenth time. It wasn't even like Harry was depressed, or like he had any sort of problem. Harry was just tired, just like every human being every once and a while. 

Glancing at his wristwatch, Harry noticed his break was almost over and that he should head back to the flower shop where he worked. That was another surprising thing about Harry; he worked at a flower shop. He had always liked flowers, which had resulted into other guys bullying him. Not that Harry ever really cared, but he wouldn't lie and say it didn't effect him - it did. Harry straightened his posture, beginning to walk back to the flower shop that was really just around the corner. People around him were all happy and smiling where as Harry was, well, the complete opposite. His once so green and bright eyes now only held sadness and this dull look in them, all the happiness was gone. He hardly smiled, let alone laughed. There was just nothing to be happy about, he thought. Many people often thought Harry was depressed, but that wasn't the case. Harry was fine, at least he claimed to be. He was perfectly fine, well not as fine as everyone else, but he was not different. He was okay, he wasn't crazy or anything. He was completely fine, he'd never been better - as he liked to describe it himself. As he walked, people passed by smiling and laughing, walking hand in hand with each other. Harry sort of envied happy people, he wanted to be happy, but he couldn't. He'd lost the ability of feeling any sort of happiness. He was just, numb.

All of a sudden Harry felt himself bumping into someone smaller than him, causing him to snap out of his thoughts. He heard a small shriek and then a pained hiss from below him and as he lowered his gaze he saw, oh God, the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. His light blue eyes stared at Harry and his mouth was twisted in a frown. He looked beyond annoyed. As the man stood up, he fixed his hair and then turned his attention back to Harry, who was just gaping at him.   
"Mind to watch where you're going, dickhead", the guy spat angrily. Harry didn't even have the time to stutter out an apology, before the guy was already walking off. His blue eyes ghosting around in Harry's mind as he made his way into the flower shop. Harry somehow couldn't take his mind off the man, there was just something special about him. Whether it was his eyes or the way he did seem a little temperamental - he stayed on Harry's mind as if he were glued. And even though Harry knew he'd probably never see this man again, he still thought about him all day as he packed up flowers, occasionally forcing a small smile at the customers. He liked his job, he just didn't like how everyone expected him to smile, to be happy. Because that, Harry was not. He wasn't happy, hadn't been for a long time. 

It was already late at night when Harry finally finished his shift at the flower shop, walking outside into the cool air. It was dark, the streets were practically empty apart from the few drunken people stumbling around in the streets and cars driving by. Harry felt so lonely, everyone else had someone to talk to, someone to hand out with - most people had a family who loved them. But that too wasn't the case for Harry. He ran his fingers through his hair to sort out his messy, slightly tangled curls as he made his way home, crossing the bridge he spent most of his breaks on. The only light provided was by the streetlamps, you couldn't even see the dark water below the bridge. Harry heaved a sigh as he pulled out a cigarette, taking it between his lips and lighting it up. He leaned against the railing, taking long drags from the cigarette. He didn't notice the footsteps trailing towards him, nor did he notice the person standing next to him before they spoke:  
"Those are bad for you, y'know?" Harry was startled by the sudden voice from beside him, so startled that he almost dropped the cigarette. He turned to look at the person beside him, and was shocked to see the guy he'd bumped into earlier. Harry didn't speak to him, he merely shrugged, hoping it's be enough of an answer to the stranger's question. He studied the shorter man who stood next to him. He looked about 22 years old, Harry himself was 20. The guy beside him frowned a little, his beautiful blue eyes focusing on the cigarette as Harry brought it to his lips, taking a long drag.

"Seriously, you could get lung cancer if you smoke like that", the stranger spoke in a serious tone, his eyebrows furrowed, as he studied Harry. It took Harry a while to come up with any sort of answer. So long, that the stranger raised his eyebrow, as if he were growing impatient waiting for Harry's reply.  
"I-I... I know that, but I don't really care", Harry stammered, hating how he sounded so damn insecure. But it his words were true, Harry did not care. It didn't matter to him if he got lung cancer and died of it, or if he jumped off this bridge right now. Nothing mattered to Harry, he'd much rather be dead anyways. He hated this world, the people in it. No one could be trusted, no one even cared for him which Harry thought was kind of sad. He didn't mind being alone but sometimes it would have been nice to just have someone to talk to. Someone who would listen to him and actually care, instead of pretending to do so. The man slowly nodded, looking a little astonished by Harry's reply. He didn't say a thing though, he stared at the city lights, seeming totally in his own thoughts. Harry took one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stomping his boot on it, straightening his tall posture. He stared at the man for a while, not to be creepy, just to admire him. He was, after all, so perfect. Everything Harry eve wanted to me. He didn't want to be this giant with too long limbs and messy curls, he wanted to be small and perfect like this stranger. But Harry would never achieve that - he was just plain Harry, nothing special, nothing to like about him.  
"H-Hey um, I'm sorry fr bumping into you earlier. Sorry. I gotta go, bye", Harry spoke hurriedly, stumbling on his own words before turning around and quickly walking off, ignoring the stranger calling for him, telling him to wait. Harry didn't wait though, he just shoved his hands deep in his pockets and walked through the city until he got to his flat which he shared with his friend, Zayn.

He walked in, slipping his boots off and walking into the kitchen, where the light was still on. Zayn sat at the table, sipping on a cup of tea and drawing something, Harry sighed, walking into the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of tea too, grabbing a slice of bread as well, not that he was all that hungry anyways. And even if he were, he couldn't eat more than this. He'd get fatter if he did.  
"Hey Haz", Zayn spoke and smiled at Harry, who walked to the table and took a seat right next to him. Harry and Zayn had been best friends ever since they were little kids and now Harry was working at a flower shop, and Zayn was an artist. It was odd how they'd managed to stay friends for so long, but they just were. Despite everything that had happened in their lives, their friendship never faltered. Harry rested his head on Zayn's shoulder tiredly, taking a long sip of his hot tea.  
"How's your day been?" Harry mumbled tiredly, staring at the small drawing on Zayn's sketchbook. Zayn was, with no doubt very talented - everyone thought so.  
"My day was... Well, boring really", Zayn said, chuckling a little and closing his sketchbook so Harry could no longer look at the beautiful drawing that he'd made. Harry nodded a little, taking another long sip of his tea, relaxing a little.

"You smell of cigarettes again, Haz. You need to quit smoking", Zayn spoke, a hint of worry in his tone. Harry just shrugged, not bothering to argue with Zayn. He knew he should stop, he just didn't want to. Cigarettes would provide him a quicker death and they relieved all his stress. So that way, everything was better. He was already stressed enough, he didn't need to have any more stress put on him. Zayn smoked himself too, anyways. But for some reason, he did not want Harry to smoke - whatever his reason was because he'd never told Harry about it. Harry got up, placing his cup in the sink, and turning around to face Zayn again.   
"I'm gonna go to bed", he mumbled and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to sort it out at least the slightest bit. Zayn nodded, flashing him a small smile.  
"Night, Haz", he spoke and went back to drawing, his eyebrows furrowing together as he focused. Harry nodded and made his way out of the kitchen, to his bedroom. He wouldn't really go to bed, Harry didn't sleep all that much anymore. He'd lost the ability to do that, too. Everything was just crumbling down on him and the way the mysterious stranger ghosted around in Harry's mind didn't make it any easier to fall asleep. Harry didn't even know his name, he only just now realized. But what did it matter, since he wouldn't be seeing this stranger ever again. Or so he thought, anyways. And yet, a small part in him hoped that he would see this beautiful stranger again.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, when Harry had finally made it to the flower shop through the pouring rain that had made him completely soaked. Water was dripping from his wet curls and sliding down his face. Harry sighed, walking to the back of the shop and throwing his bag onto an empty chair and then leaving his coat on the back of the chair. There was no one inside the shop, not that anyone even came there that often. Mostly it was just old lady's, sometimes a man looking for flowers as a gift. Maybe that was why Harry liked his job so much, it was so quiet. There wasn't a ton of judgmental people around him, it was just him in the shop. There wasn't a crow - Harry had always been anxious in big crowds, mostly because he wasn't the most socially skilled person in the world. Harry sighed and walked around the shop, occasionally running his fingers over the petals of flowers or rearranging them. He thought they were beautiful. That they, in a way, not only presented the beauty of the world but also reminded him of how short life is. You could say Harry thought a lot, but what else should he do when he was in this damned shop for the whole day, all by himself. 

Harry had just made a small crown out of some daisies that weren't going to be sold as the door suddenly opened, a young man stepping in. Harry raised his eyebrow at the man, who looked actually quite familiar. His hair was all shaggy and it stuck around in any direction possible, his eyes though, they were bright. Bright and a deep shade of blue. And those eyes were what made Harry recognize the man; he was the one who Harry bumped into the day before and the one who Harry somewhat talked to last night, at the bridge. But what on earth was he doing here? Harry figured that he was probably buying flowers for his girlfriend, or boyfriend how would Harry know. Or maybe just for a friend, or family member. That's what you usually come to a flower shop for, Harry thought to himself as the man walked up to the counter where Harry was standing, still eyeing the blue-eyed man curiously. He cleared his throat, making Harry flinch ever so slightly.

"Hey, could I get a dozen of red roses?" He spoke, making Harry almost melt at his voice. It was beautiful, he had quite a strong accent and his voice was slightly raspy. Goddamn beautiful, Harry thought to himself as he nodded at him, shooting a small closed mouth smile.  
"Yeah or course. Um d-do you want them packed up- or?" He asked, mentally cursing himself for constantly stuttering and stumbling on his words. He hated how he always came off so insecure and shy, sometimes fearful even with all the flinching and stuff. But to Harry's surprise the man didn't look majorly annoyed this time, he nodded, flashing Harry a small crooked smile. Though Harry didn't miss the slight annoyance and perhaps tiredness flashing in his eyes before it was replaced by this sparkling look of happiness.  
"That would be lovely." Harry quickly packed up the roses, handing them to the man, who had been staring at Harry the whole time. Harry didn't say anything though, he just pretended he didn't notice a thing. As the man had paid and left the shop, Harry stared at him, wanting so badly to know his name at least. Though that would be slightly odd, given the fact that they had never really talked.

Long after the man had left, Harry found himself spending his break at the bridge yet again, leaning over the damp railing as the still unlit cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. And once again Harry found his mind drifting to the blue-eyes beautiful man. He could only wonder who he bought the flowers for - though why did Harry care? He didn't know this man so technically he shouldn't care at all. Harry pulled his lighter out of his pocket, lighting up the cigarette and taking a long drag of the toxic smoke, not even coughing the slightest bit. He had grown so used to the smoke that traveled to his lungs, doing it's damage of course, but what did Harry care?

"Didn't you hear what I said last night?" That all too familiar voice spoke from Harry's right, causing him to flinch and drop his lighter that was still in his hand. He could hear it land in the water below with a splash. Harry turned towards the person he knew all too well who it was. Harry shot him a glare, taking another drag of his cigarette. The blue eyes stared at him with annoyance, surprisingly anger even. 

"Well maybe, I-I... I just didn't care", Harry stated, his eyes never leaving the slightly shorter man that was still glaring at Harry obviously annoyed, Harry just couldn't figure why he'd be annoyed over Harry smoking a cigarette. Hell they didn't even know each other.  
"You must be really fucking dumb to be smoking, you know?" He spat at Harry. Harry once again flinched, mentally smacking himself for the slight hint of fear that he'd just showed. He didn't want to seem like a weak person - he didn't want to see what he really was, weak. 

"Or maybe I just don't give much of a shit for life", Harry mumbled, his voice barely audible. He had turned his eyes back to the water below the bridge again, paying no attention to the blue-eyed stranger whatsoever. No words were spoken after that, the both of them just stood at the bridge until Harry stole a glance at his wristwatch. His break would be over in five minutes, so he had to head back to the shop already.

"I gotta go", Harry spoke, not expecting any reply from the stranger who seemed to be greatly annoyed by not only Harry's smoking but also his presence. He did turn around however, those blue eyes staring into Harry's green one's. He then nodded, running his hand through his hair.  
"Bye..." He then paused, raising his eyebrow at Harry, he was clearly waiting for Harry to say his name. Harry rolled his eyes and shrugged.   
"Harry", he spoke, fixing his now damp curls that were scattered all around his head, as messy as always. The man nodded.  
"Well, Harry, you better stop smoking", he spoke, smirking slightly. Harry yet again rolled his eyes, simply shrugging his shoulders, brushing the stranger's words off. As Harry turned around, he suddenly realized he still didn't know the man's name. He turned around, to find the man still standing there, his eyes studying Harry up and down - something that made Harry nervous. He thinks I'm fat, Harry thought.

"I'm Louis, if you care enough to know", the man, Louis, spoke. Harry nodded slowly, licking his lips. For some reason he felt like he should be offended by Louis's somewhat rude tone, but he didn't care. He was sort of used to it, rude comments just simply didn't affect him anymore.  
"Well, bye Louis", Harry said turning around and walking away, not even bothering enough to wait for Louis to reply. 

As he walked off, Louis simply just stared at the curly haired boy in annoyance - though he did somewhat admire his curls that were in fact really. But Harry as a person was everything Louis just couldn't stand. Harry was goddamn annoying, he just set Louis off in the worst way possible. And the fact that Harry worked in a flower shop just annoyed Louis - he couldn't stand flowers really. It was a girl thing, as he had so many times told everyone. The only reason Louis had been in the flower shop today was because he had to get his mother flowers, it was after all her birthday. And maybe, just maybe he wanted to see the stranger who's name he now knew. Harry; annoying but handsome, those damned curls would have anyone swooning. And his eyes were beautiful, really. But Louis didn't like him, Harry wasn't the kind of person he wanted in his life; he was too annoying and he smoked; something Louis hated. And yet, he was fascinated by Harry.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry placed the flower crown on top of his head, his curls yet again sticking in every direction possible. The whole day his mind had been set on Louis, the man's blue eyes ghosting around in Harry's mind. He fixed some flowers in their buckets, his eyes wandering to the red roses sitting in the corner. Harry always loved roses; especially red ones. They were just simply beautiful, so delicate as well. Harry did get teased a lot for his liking for flowers and for the flower crowns. It wasn't like he cared, it didn't really matter. But that didn't mean that the words didn't hurt; they did, they hurt a lot actually. It was raining outside, water pooling on the streets and hammering against the window, the sky was a dark grey color. Harry stole a quick glance outside where people walked around holding umbrellas above their heads, dressed in raincoats. No one looked like they enjoyed the rain; yet so many people say they love the rain, thought Harry.

He walked into the back of the shop, grabbing a cup and making some tea for himself. Harry never took food with him to work, even though he told Zayn he did. It was of course bad to lie when Zayn was his best friend but it was Harry's only option. He had to lie to get skinny, to lose all the fat covering his body. Harry drank his tea while leaning against the wall, closing his eyes tiredly. He could sit of course, but then he would burn less calories and only lazy people sit, Harry thought. He mentally scolded himself for having breakfast, eggs and a slice of plain toast, but he just couldn't have Zayn suspecting anything. He had to see Harry eating, if not every day then at least occasionally. Besides, Zayn wouldn't notice - how would he when Harry always told him he ate, that he grabbed something on the way home. And Harry sometimes ate at home too, he'd just become an expert at avoiding food - or hiding it.

Harry still remembered the last time he stepped on the scale that he had hidden under his bed, in a cardboard box. It was only a few days ago, when he had gotten home before Zayn. The numbers had made Harry disgusted, made him want to cut all the fat off with fucking scissors. Made him want to puke his guts out and never ever eat again. He weighed way too much, he needed to be skinnier. It would be good for not only him but everyone around him; they wouldn't have to see all the fat anymore. Harry wouldn't be disgusting anymore. 120 pounds. Way too much, disgustingly much in fact. Harry was so bloated, so fat, so big so... jiggly. He shook his head at himself, not wanting to remember how huge he was. How thick and yet jiggly his thighs were, how his stomach rolled up, how his body jiggled with each movement. He took another gulp of the hot tea, wincing at how it burnt his tongue. Harry hardly ever wore tightly fitting clothes, even the t-shirts he wore were big and loose so no one would see just how fat he was. He didn't like tight skinny jeans that clung to his thighs and if he didn't have to go anywhere, he just dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, that covered his body up pretty nicely. Even though Harry still thought he looked big, so disgusting.

And Harry was ugly too, which only made the situation worse. he was fat and ugly, no one would ever be able to even look at him in anything other than disgust. Harry's eyebrows were too bushy, his skin wasn't good, his curls were just too messy, his nose too big, his limbs too long. He looked so clumsy and he was fat too; not the kind of person anyone could love. That Harry was sure of. And on top of that, Harry's legs were covered in jagged scars, his arms in tattoos that hid scars and his stomach was, well, covered in scars too. There were very little parts on Harry's body that hadn't been harmed in some way. And it wasn't like Harry was some self harming depressed freak; he wasn't crazy. He just needed to know he was alive, to feel the sting of the blade as it cut through his skin. He needed to feel the burn of the cuts, to see the red blood running down his rather pale skin. He just needed to know he was alive was all it was. A distraction from the voices in his head screaming at him how worthless he was, how ugly and fat he was. And a way to see that he was alive; a way to see that the blood still ran through his veins and therefore his heart would still be beating.

Harry sighed as he heard the shop door open, the small bell at the top of the door made this ringing sound so harry would know someone was in the shop. He sighed and set his half finished teacup down and walked into the shop, straightening the flower crown on his head. He greeted the older lady that had stepped into the shop, putting on his best fake smile. He didn't feel comfortable smiling anymore, it felt so weird to put on a smile when all he wanted to do was die. Harry didn't like lying, he hated it. And putting on a fake smile, that was lying too. But Harry had figured that with strangers it was okay. it was okay to pretend that he was happy, that he wasn't unhappy, that he was fine.

"Those flowers are very beautiful, dear. They fit you very well", the lady spoke, smiling at Harry who managed a small thank you. Compliments didn't feel right, they were lies. Yes, of course the flowers were beautiful but they didn't fit Harry. Harry wasn't quite beautiful enough to wear such a beautiful flower crown, made of those oh so perfect flowers. And as his mind yet again wandered to Louis, he thought of how well Louis could pull off a flower crown with that gorgeous face and those captivating blue eyes.

"Do you have some pink roses, perhaps?" The lady asked and snapped Harry out of his thoughts. He furrowed his brows, trying to focus on what the lady had asked. He had been feeling rather dizzy and out of it the whole day, but he didn't really think that much of it.  
"Y-Yeah, ma'am. I could get you some, um, h-how many do you want?" He stuttered, mentally beating himself up for the damn stuttering.  
"If you could get me seven that would be lovely. And please, could you wrap them up?" The lady was so kind and thankfully didn't seem to notice Harry's fake smile and his nervousness. Or maybe she's just too kind to point it all out, Harry's subconscious screamed at him.

"Of course, I'll- I'll be right back", Harry stammered making his way to one of the cabinets in the back of the shop and grabbed seven pink roses, making sure to pick the most beautiful one's. The scent of roses filled Harry's nostrils as he carried the roses back into the shop where he could wrap them up. He wished he would have someone to buy flowers for too, Zayn didn't care for flowers that much and it would be weird, because they were just friends. And his family didn't really care for flowers either and Harry rarely saw them. So that ruled them out too. And that left Harry with no one to buy flowers for. And God, did he want to buy someone flowers. He wanted to be that special person to someone, that person who would make someone's days brighter and he just wanted to make someone happy. It would be so nice to buy someone a bucket of flowers and give it to them, to see them smiling. Harry wanted that more then anything.

But as long as I'm like this, Harry thought, I'm never gonna be that special person to anyone.


End file.
